Home Again
by Michaelover101
Summary: They both grew up in different homes, both are looking for that feeling of unconditional love, of having someone. Will they find it? Rogan. Oneshot.


**_Title:_** Home Again

**_Author:_** Michaelover101

**_Summery:_** They both grew up in different homes, both are looking for that feeling of unconditional love, of having someone. Will they find it? Rogan. One-shot.

**_Rating:_** K

**_Disclaimer: _**Not mine.

**_Beta:_** Flynn, who gave me the ending, and the will to write this and everything else.

She walked in the little New York café and sat at her usual booth near the back but at the window, so she could watch people while she enjoyed her morning.

She smiled at the young teenage waiter, who was probably working to save up for a car, instead of having to spend his money on the subway like some of his friends. He looked over at her, smiled back and left the table he was bussing to go get her usual order of black coffee and an orange-cranberry scone.

She placed her laptop bag on the surface of the table, unwrapped her scarf from around her neck, setting it in the seat behind her along with her coat and purse, letting the heat of the café warm her cold hands. She'd forgotten her mittens which resulted in her fingers getting stuffed in her coat pockets so that they wouldn't freeze to death.

"Here you go, Miss Gilmore."

She looked up and smiled at Billy as he put her coffee and scone down.

"Thanks, Billy." She batted her eyelashes a few times, causing a blush to work its way up his neck and bloom onto his cheeks. He gave a short nod, obviously tongue-tied and went back to his post of bussing tables.

She should feel bad for teasing the obviously hormonal teenager that way, but in the words of her mom "If you got it, flaunt it', not that she flaunted it often. She'd known Billy since she had first walked into the café two years ago. She's made it a point to come in at the same time, every Saturday and get to know everyone. Teasing Bill had become a daily thing, as well as leaving him a big tip, just to nudge along the process of getting a car.

She picked at her scone and went to pick up her coffee, when the whole routine struck her as monotonous. Every Saturday she would wake up and call her mom, filling her in on the events of the week.

John from editing was flirting again.

Eddy, her boss, was being an ass.

Her father called.

She talked to her grandmother.

Her stocking had run, and she had forgotten to take an extra pair to work once again.

Her mother would comment on each one in her usual Lorelai Gilmore way. Sarcastic and with a pop culture reference, then would fill her in on the going-ons of Stars Hollow.

Taylor annoyed Luke.

Luke got mad and steam came out of his ears. (This was always in the literal sense to her mother)

Michel was rude.

Sookie had a panic attack.

She would respond with the usual laugh and promises of visiting soon. They would wrap up the conversations with more promises of calling more frequently. She'd hang up, in a good mood, and get in the shower and change.

Her clothes were always sensible and stylish, depending on the weather outside. Today she'd chosen jeans, red long sleeve shirt and winter coat along with her boots which had kept the outfit stylish, yet her feet didn't freeze when she stepped out of her apartment into the harsh winter.

Then she'd walk to the café, order her usual and leave, except on Saturdays, when she'd sit in the booth, watch people and get work done, when she found she could concentrate.

She'd been living in New York for over two years now, working happily with a well known paper, and wrote about world events, which would be as close as she got to being an overseas correspondent, but she went to places she was comfortable and never went into the seedy parts of the town.

She found that even though she had friends from work that she went out with on occasions, and had a bed and roof over her head, she hadn't been able to claim New York as home. No matter how much she had filled her apartment with pictures or personal belongings, or how long she lived there, she felt like it would never really be home for her. Just a place to go to sleep and shower and then go back to her life of monotony.

Stars Hollow had stopped being home when her mother had gotten married to her love interest Luke Danes, then when they had her baby brother. Though her mother told her she was welcome any time, and that it didn't matter that there were now two more people in their lives, the door would always be open. But now Stars Hollow was a childhood place, where she could re-live high school romances and summer nights when she and her mother would walk through town. But she wasn't that child anymore, she was a grown woman who couldn't be that sixteen-year-old who depended on her mother at every waking moment.

Hartford had never been home to her. Though she'd stayed with her grandparents countless times and gone to school there, and had long lasting friends who lived there still, Hartford could never be claimed home. She loved her grandparents and she loved that their home was always there when she needed it to be, but it wasn't where she felt comfortable. She always felt like she was intruding or in the way of something when there.

Sighing, she picked at the scone in front of her and pushed it out of the way. She took her laptop out of its bag and opened it. Her finger played with the clear mouse pad, moving the mouse around the screen aimlessly. She wondered if she would ever find a place she could call home. She wondered if she would be happy like her mother was with Luke and make that home.

With a sigh, she pulled open a document she'd been working on the night before and began typing. If she couldn't find 'home' now, she was most certainly going to do that job she was paid for to keep a roof over her head.

_**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**_

Logan Huntzberger blinked tiredly, groaning in frustration as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at the computer screen for four hours, clicking, dragging, and still had yet to win one game of solitaire.

He found lately that his productivity level had gone down, he couldn't concentrate on anything and rarely worked when in the office, though miraculously, things got finished, and the finished product always arrived on his desk right on time and he was able to get the paper out to the public.

Though his productivity level had gone down, luckily the quality of the paper hadn't changed, so he didn't need to add the sound of his father hounding him to the list of things to worry about.

With a sigh, he closed the window to the solitaire game he'd been working on, and pulled up the same article he'd been working on for the past week. He began to type, only to find himself saving the few words he typed, closing the document and bringing the insufferable, yet addictive game of solitaire back on his computer screen.

He wasn't the only one that had noticed a change in his attitude. His friends had commented on it countless times over the weeks, when he went out with them on Fridays nights. When asked what was wrong, he would find himself shrugging, not quite sure himself.

He hadn't lost his appetite, he ate regularly or whenever his stomach grumbled reminding him to do so. He wasn't sad or angry, he was just bored.

Finn and Colin, his two best friends, had pointed out that he wasn't looking at women like he used to. Truth be told, he hadn't slept with anyone in months. He was just tired and bored of doing the same thing each and every night.

On weekdays he'd go to sleep around eleven, only to wake up at five thirty and be at the office at seven. His secretary would come in at eight, give him a rundown of morning appointments, then he'd get to work, then again at ten his secretary would come back in, tell him his afternoon appointments and any calls that had come in for him.

He'd work all day, attend meetings, go home at ten, eat a late dinner, and then watch whatever late night show was on, then go to sleep.

On Friday nights he'd meet up with old college buddies and their girlfriends who would try to set him up with anything with legs. In the old days... or, well, two months ago, he would have played along and gone home with whatever girl they'd pick for him. But lately, he'd just shrug it off and go home alone.

On Saturdays he would come to the office for morning staff meetings to hand out assignments and tell them deadlines. He would stay till two. For the past few weeks he'd just been going home and watched TV, sometimes went over to some friends' house and hung out.

In a word, he was bored.

"Mr. Huntzberger?"

Looking up, he saw his raven-haired secretary come in with a flirtatious smile on her face.

Looking over at her attire, he noticed that as usual it wasn't completely work appropriate. Her red skirt fell to the middle of her thighs and had a slit on the right side, showing off the white skin. Her white blouse was skin tight and about a size too small, her buttons practically popping off at the tightness, and then open at the top to show off her cleavage, then a red jacket over that Logan thought was for the show, seeing as it didn't add anything professional to the outfit.

"Morning, Emerald," he sighed closing the game. He'd once again lost.

"Good morning," she said sitting down on one of the chairs across his desk and crossing her legs, causing the skirt to rise, if possible.

"What's on the agenda today?" Logan asked, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. He knew there were exactly fifty three tiles on the ceiling and three thousand, four hundred and thirty five spot on those tiles. He found it sad that he'd been so bored, that he'd done math on his free times just to figure that out.

"Well, you have a meeting at twelve with the heads of..."

"Can you cancel it?" Logan asked not bothering to let her finish it.

"Ca… cancel, sir?"

He nodded. "Yeah, reschedule it, I really don't feel like going to meetings today."

He found he was amused by Emeralds impression of a fish as she opened and closed her mouth, then looking down at her notepad and making a note.

"All right."

"You know what, why don't you cancel all my meetings?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Logan nodded.

"All right, I'll make the calls," Emerald nodded.

"Thank you," Logan said.

"Um... would you like your calls?"

"Yeah."

"All right, Mark Woodsman called and asked when you would sign the contracts?"

"Call and tell them sometime next week."

"Isn't that a bit vague, sir?"

"Just vague enough to keep them interested," Logan replied.

"Your sister called and said she wanted to have lunch at the club."

"I'll call back later," he said making a mental note.

"And your last one was from your mother, wanting you to come home for a party tomorrow night."

"All right, I'll call her back later as well."

"And that's it," she said as she stood up. Logan noticed that she didn't bother pulling down her skirt. "Here are some faxes that came in during your morning meeting," she said bending down and setting them on his desk, giving him a generous view of her cleavage.

"Thank you, Emerald, if that'll be all..." he trailed off as she straightened. He found he was also amused by the way her face contorted when she was baffled. She turned on her heel, and he could help but give a small laugh as she swayed her hips, giving a little oomph to her walk. She closed his door, and he turned in his chair to look at the view of New York he had outside his window.

What he found more amusing was that though he would have jumped at the chance of getting Emerald in bed weeks ago, he found he wasn't in the least bit interested now. He looked down and saw a small café.

A trip to that café might just be the thing he needed to get out of his funk. Getting up, he grabbed his coat and scarf and pulled on his gloves. He walked out of the office, only to be met by Emerald's baffled face.

"Sir, where are you going?"

"Get some coffee, I might not be back today, hold my calls."

"But..." The rest was drowned out as he closed the doors to the stairwell and walked down them quickly.

He found it odd that though he'd been working in the same office for almost three years, he'd never visited the café across the street, or any of the stores on the street.

He wasn't fond of New York. He lived there and went to the stores when he needed to and only the ones who held his type of clothes in bulk. He'd never felt that sense of home ever in his life. Not in New York in his high rise apartment. Not in his off campus apartment at Yale. Not in his dorm and most definitely not at his parents' house. He never felt that feeling at any of the boarding schools he went to and got kicked out of.

He didn't even know what the sense of home felt like. He pushed the door open and let the winter air hit his face and he walked to the street light to cross the street.

Maybe that was what was bugging him, he thought. He was watching all his friends settle down with their long time girlfriends and get that home they all craved. And here he was, still stuck in the same routine and damn if he wasn't turning into his father.

With a sigh he pulled open the door to the café and started walking inside, only to wince when he felt scolding hot liquid fall onto him. Walking backwards he pulled his jacket away from him and looked up at he girl on the ground.

"Oh god," he held out his hand and helped her up. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"No, I'm sorry I didn't see you. I was thinking about something, and whoosh, all of a sudden my coffee goes flying and I'm in the snow." She dusted off the back of her pants. "And now my butt is all cold."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess our minds were both wondering."

He heard a cough behind him. He turned and saw a couple wanting to enter the café, but couldn't as he was blocking the door. "Sorry," he muttered as he moved forward, towards the girl and unblocked the entrance.

"I swear I'm not usually this clumsy," the girl said as she readjusted her messenger bag on her shoulder. She shoved her ungloved hands in her pockets and smiled as she pulled her hand back out with a colorful beanie in her hand. "I knew I put it somewhere."

Logan laughed. "I'm guessing you're not forgetful either?"

"A girl forgets she stuffed her hat in her pocket and now she's forgetful," she rolled her eyes as she adjusted the hat on her head. Logan smirked at the puff ball that settled in the center. He took the time to look at her. She had bright blue eyes that seemed to be laughing at him, and a small smile on glossed lips, plump and waiting to be kissed. From what he could tell she was lean and had long legs though the large winter jacket that she had on hid her figure.

"...your name and number, I'll pay to get your jacket dry cleaned."

Logan blinked. "What?"

She laughed. "I said, if you give me your name and your number, I'll pay to get your jacket dry cleaned."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to pick me up."

"Oh yes," she said batting her eyelashes. "Because I always spill my coffee on guys so I can get their information. It's just that perfect of a plan."

"Hey, you never know, I'm a pretty good looking guy."

"Oh and cocky too, just the quality I'm looking for in a guy."

"Well, good thing we ran into each other, huh?"

She laughed. "Yeah, good thing."

They stood staring at each other, both smiling, before she broke the silence. "So are you going to give me your name and number or should I just give you the twenty bucks?"

Logan laughed. "How about I just buy us a cup of coffee and call it even."

"I don't know how it's even, but I'm in." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm Rory Gilmore by the way." She stuck out her hand and he looked at it with a smile.

"Logan Huntzberger," he said shaking her hand. They both stood there, smiling, holding each other's hands and they both knew they had come home.

_**End**_

_**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**_

**_AN: _**I would just like to thank my beta, who gave me the ending to this story and asked that I write the one-shot. So I did. This is for Flynn, who's waited oh so patiently for it. lol.

Hope you all enjoyed. Not sure if it'll have a sequel or not...but by my mind I think not.

I'd love to know what you think.

Kassandra


End file.
